Page 53 of Fake Fae-Ancée
"Quite enchanting."
Yli-Pekkala had appeared beside me, enshrouded in pipe smoke, nodding at Kai. "You look like a real-life princess."
A pretty pissed-off princess, indeed.
"This thing weighs a ton," she complained, trying to lift her skirt and failing. "How am I supposed to move in this giant piece of garbage?"
Yli-Pekkala tutted. "This is not a piece of garbage, it is your gown for the Ball of Falling Stars, my dear. We'll have to have more fittings, of course. You need an entire new wardrobe. But at first glance, you already pass for the queen from the prince’s prophecy."
"I doubt that very much," Kai muttered, leaning sideways and lifting an arm for the seamstress to add another pin needle to the fabric. Damn, I had never been more aware about corsets and their special ability tosqueezeandpushcertain thingsupandtogether. I quickly looked somewhere else.
"You look like every little girl’s dream," Yli-Pekkala corrected. "It’s all about the mindset. You, my dear, are betrothed to the handsome, noble prince, and you are beside yourself with joy."
"I can hardly contain myself," Kai muttered.
I retreated to the kitchen somewhere in the chaos, trying to get some distance between me and her and my spinning mind back into focus. Clinging to a cup of coffee, I watched from afar how the seamstresses fluttered around Kai.
I shouldn’t linger. I'd probably be better off having Bates fit me into my parade uniform. I should go back to my study instead of exposing myself to more of this.
Bear was pacing in the background and I sighed inwardly. Of course, Bear knew exactly what he wanted. He had never stopped. Bear wanted Kai. Just because my heart had resigned itself to the fact that I could never win her back, didn't mean that the rest of me agreed with it as well.
Bear certainly did not.
Kai
Around 1 A.M.,I sat in in front of the vanity. The girl in the mirror didn’t look like me at all. A complete stranger sat there, with flawless skin and shiny black hair. I caught myself blinking repeatedly at my reflection as if that vision of me would pop out of existence again any moment.
I raked my hand through that new thick, black mane that the Witch hairdresser had magicked on my head. Forget about extensions or artificial hairdos. That girl had just snapped her fingers and literally grown out my spunky little side cut. I still had a little headache. The weight of the mop of hair alone was unnerving, making my roots literally hurt.
Other parts of me were, ironically, now completely hairless. Another lady had dragged me into one of the many bathrooms this penthouse obviously harbored where another spa-unit had been popped up. I’d realized too late for what exact purpose. And some very uncomfortable thirty minutes later, I was completely bald from the eyes down. A rather draughty affair, if anyone asked me.
There’d been more — nails, hair, facial, make-up — and next thing I knew, I was wearing that hideous dress and Kalinin had been staring at me in that weird way. I’d never wanted to punch him more.
I groaned, grabbing a fistful of hair. I needed to tie it up, get it out of my face. I shuffled to the stack of boxes on the other end of the room. My boxes. Most of my belongings, clothes and books and my Playstation. The Trolls had stacked my swords- and weapons collection in a different room
I had actually moved in here.
With Kalinin.
My ex from hell.
We would make the most horrible flat-share ever.
I scoured a few boxes for a hair tie and found none, of course, because I bloody well never had needed one because my hair had always been cut short, thank you very much, and with a side cut and short hair there was no freaking need for any damn hair ties! I was halfway on the verge of a meltdown when I found a stray shoelace in a box with t-shirts. Okay, whatever.
I tied my shiny new hair into a more or less neat ponytail, flopped back down on the seat in front of the vanity. Close enough. My field of vision was free. Still, I made a mental note, as soon as this was over, I was getting a pixie cut.
I slung the ponytail over my shoulder. Looked in the mirror as the ridiculous mass of hair cascaded down my body. Okay, maybe it wasn't completely awful. It looked kind of alright. But then I shook my head. This wouldn’t work. I was no princess, no matter how badly that Witch’s minions would dress me up. I was the opposite of any kind of damsel in distress. If there ever was an antithesis to the very basic principle of a helpless little girl who constantly needed saving and looked pretty — it was me.
The anti-princess.
My phone buzzed. Head in my hands, elbows propped up, I looked sideways down at the glowing display. My friends had continued to text me during the day, each time a different spin on the question: Are you really okay?
Charly:"What are you doing right now?" -
Charly:"The apartment is so quiet without you. :("-
I didn’t move. What the hell was I supposed to answer? The thought of my now empty room, my sanctuary, now empty apart from my bed, clenched my heart like a walnut.
